


(The Marching Band) Refused to Yield

by bluestargirl6 (pressdbtwnpages), pressdbtwnpages



Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-04
Updated: 2006-06-04
Packaged: 2017-10-15 17:10:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pressdbtwnpages/pseuds/bluestargirl6, https://archiveofourown.org/users/pressdbtwnpages/pseuds/pressdbtwnpages
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Maybe, a tiny bit, when he saw April’s note, Mark thought Roger deserved what he got for being so reckless, so stupid.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	(The Marching Band) Refused to Yield

**Author's Note:**

> Uh, I may have played with the established fanon pre-Rent timeline a little. And this is fairly movieverse (by virtue of my needing information that the show doesn‘t detail and the movie does), though I do know the show.

Mark won’t lie. For awhile he thought maybe being HIV+ would be good for his best friend. Well, not good exactly, obviously, but better than the wild, desperate, drug induced high Roger had been living so long. And, maybe, a tiny bit, when he saw April’s note, Mark thought Roger deserved what he got for being so reckless, so stupid.

And if he’s really honest, Mark can admit that he enjoyed those first few months of Roger being a shut-in after withdrawl. It was nice, Roger needing him, being scared and sad and quietly desperate and doomed. Mark felt guilty about being happy then, feels worse now, but that’s how it felt.

Now though, Mark won’t wish AIDS on his worst enemy, let alone his best friend. Watching Roger struggle for breath, this constant pain, being afraid to go to sleep because what if that’s the end and they miss it, Mark wishes he could turn back time. If he could, he would make it so Roger never met April.

Mark wakes up in his room and immediately panics. He can’t remember coming home, can’t remember what happened at the hospital. The only reasonable explanation is that Roger died and Mark went temporarily insane, causing one of his friends, Collins probably, to have to get him home. Which means that, yeah, Roger’s dead.

Roger. Is. Dead.

Roger. Dead

A gut-wrenching wail rips through Mark. He didn’t mean to make the sound, but his best friend is dead and Mark doesn’t know how he’s supposed to go on without him. Tears are already filling Mark’s eyes, and the last time he cried was when he broke a leg at 13.

“Dude, what the hell?” Mark’s door swishes open and Mark’s irritated. Isn’t it obvious how devastated he is now that he doesn’t have-

“Roger?” Mark looks at the bleach-blond kid in front of him in amazement. Roger doesn’t look like this any more. He let his hair grow out and stopped dying it years ago. He got older, more rugged, and then thin, painfully thin, a human skeleton.

“You sounded like you were fucking dying in here, man. What’s up?” Roger walks in and flops backwards on Mark’s bed.

Mark doesn’t know why this has happened and he doesn’t care. Roger is laughing, Roger is smiling, Roger is laying across his bed looking like he’s got the world at his feet and Mark just wants to touch him.

Mark puts a cautious hand on Roger’s leg and he doesn’t vanish into mist. Mark doesn’t wake up in a hospital room. Roger just turns and smiles cautiously at him.

“You okay, Mark? You’re kind of freaking me out.”

“I just… had the weirdest dream.” He isn’t really sure if it was a dream, or if he is dreaming, or what. He doesn’t really care, just wants to spend as much more time with Roger as humanly possible. “You have plans for today?”

“Naah, Not really. The gig tonight,” Roger’s eyes light up. “You are coming, right? You can’t miss the Well Hungarians first legitimate club gig, I don’t care how much you hate bars.”

“Of course I’m coming!” Mark laughs at his best friend, one who still has the energy and lung capacity for excitement. “You know I wouldn’t miss it.”

No, Mark couldn’t miss it. It would be a good show after all, lots of excited people, and Roger’s very first groupie. April.

 _Mark wishes he could turn back time… make it so Roger never met April._

He recalls his hospital wish, wonders how it’s possible for a second before telling his brain to shut up because he. Doesn’t. Fucking. Care. All that matters is Roger and keeping him safe. Away from April and the rock star scene. Away from heroin. Away from AIDS.

“Just… don’t abandon me tonight, okay? You know crowds of people freak me out.” Mark knows what happens, Roger saw April in the crowd, bumped into her at the bar during a set break, utterly abandoned Mark after the show. Well, he and Collins and Benny went to eat at the Life, but the celebration was lacking without the man of the hour.

Roger scoffs. “Collins and Benny’ll be there.”

Mark scoffs right back. “They’ll abandon me to go flirt. And I will sit patiently and enjoy your show. Just don’t wander off with some groupie is all I’m asking.”

Roger sits up and laughs, ruffling Mark’s hair. Mark revels in the touch of his should be nearly-dead best friend. “The Well Hungarians don’t have groupies.”

“Not yet anyway.”

“You think tonight’s the night?” Roger asks cocking his head.

Mark glares. “It better not be.”

Hands up in surrender Roger laughs again, “I promise I will not abandon you tonight. Groupies or not.”

“That’s all I ask.”

******

Mark spends the rest of the day following Roger around like a lost puppy, nudging him and trying to get him to laugh as often as possible. If he wakes up tomorrow in a hospital room he wants to know that he had one last perfect day with the most important person in his world.

Roger tolerates the devotion, but Mark doesn’t know what to do with Roger slinging his arm around Mark’s neck and tugging him close as they walk down the street. It’s… not a Roger thing to do, then or now. But Roger smiles brilliantly down at Mark and Mark chalk’s it up to an unusual sensitivity to the day’s atmosphere on Roger’s part.

Closer to show time however, Roger develops a case of nerves the likes of which Mark can’t recall ever happening before.

Collins mocks Roger mercilessly. Who ever heard of a rock star with stage fright?

“I am not frightened,” Roger responds calmly, “I am just a little… jittery.”

After which he nearly sticks his eyeliner in his eye.

While Mark waits for his vain friend he nervously tries to carefully sort out the logic of the day. He doesn’t want to delve too deep, doesn’t want to lose this. He just wants to know why he can’t remember Roger’s stage fright. Which, upon reflection, was probably the reason for the touchy-feely on the street earlier. Still, something like Roger being nervous about performing is something Mark should remember. But then, last time, before, Mark hadn’t spent all day with Roger, had he? Collins had torn him away from the script he had been working on just in time for the show.

Roger emerges from the bathroom hair gelled, eyes lined, if a bit red, wearing a black tank top and looking thoroughly psyched up.

“Ready?” Mark enquires.

An over-enthusiastic “HELL YEAH!” is his answer.

******

Mark spots April the second they get into the bar. Roger has gone around back with the rest of the band to set up and Benny and Collins are buying beer.

From his table Mark glowers at April. He wants to get up and smack her, scream at her for ruining all of their lives. What would Mark be without a former-junkie dying best friend? What would Roger have made of himself without a death sentence and the specter of her ghost always looming behind him? Right now Mark would happily kill April himself to save them all the pain.

“What did she ever do to you?” Collins asks, setting down drinks.

“Uh, what?” Mark’s caught by surprise.

“You’re glaring daggers through that poor girl.”

Poor girl, Mark snorts. Of course, she is a poor girl, a suicidal pathetic junkie. But that’s hardly his fault. He doesn’t want Collins feeling sorry for April and adopting her the way he had for Mark and Roger, so he feigns innocence.

“I didn’t even notice!”

Collins studies him closely, but years of practice have made him near-unreadable. He smiles widely.  
“Look! They’re coming on stage!”

Collins, Benny, and Mark all stand and stomp wildly, whistling and clapping and doing their best to embarrass Roger. It doesn’t work, the adrenaline has taken hold and Roger is surveying the crowd.

A cold knot of fear settles in Mark’s stomach. ‘Please let him not see her, please let him not see her,’ he hoped fervently.

Roger catches his eyes and smiles and the knot in Mark’s belly loosens a little. He did promise, Mark reflects, but they could always exchange numbers and go out later, or meet at another show. Mark is going to have to be on guard for a very long time, until… Until Mimi? A junkie HIV+ stripper? Great. Roger might never be safe. Mark tries to resign himself to this, he himself might never be safe. He could die tomorrow, anyone could. Mark just needs to keep Roger away from April.

He races to the bar as the band begins it’s last song of the set, brushing past April as he does so, to have a fresh, cold beer for Roger the second he gets off stage.

Roger grins and sips gratefully at the beverage as he steps off stage . “You’re too good to me, man.”

Mark shrugs and blushes a little bit and tries to block Roger’s view of April. He will not let this opportunity slip away. That would be tantamount to killing Roger himself.

******

“Great show,” Benny praises, clapping a hand on Roger’s shoulder as the four roommates make their way to the Life Café afterwards.

“We were on fire!” Roger exclaims, still jazzed from the show. “We’ve never played that well! And did you see all the girls?”

“Mark saw one,” Collins teased.

Mark glares. Why was Collins so insistent upon bringing April into their lives? She was going to ruin everything!

“She looked familiar is all,” Mark defends. “I think I once saw her shoot up in the alley next to the club.”

Not a lie, exactly. Mark had seen April shoot up, alone, in that alley. Of course, that was several months from now and Roger was too in love with her by then to believe him.

“Really?” Collins asks curiously as Roger simultaneously asks

“Which girl?”

“Pretty redhead. Brown summer dress,” Benny supplied.

“Weird necklace,” Collins contributed as Mark insisted,

“She wasn’t that pretty!”

“Oh, yeah, I saw her. She was pretty pretty Mark,” Roger looks at his friend askance.

“Junkie,” Mark reminds.

“Yeah, that’s a little bit of a turnoff,” Roger acknowledges.

“A little?” Mark repeats. “Promise me, Roger, that you’ll never touch that stuff. I don’t care how big of a rock star you become.”

Roger laughs, “I promise.”

“Seriously,” Mark pressures. “Swear to me, Roger, that you will stay far, far away from heroin.”

Roger rolls his eyes but then stops walking and looks intensely into Mark’s, “I swear to God, Mark, I will not touch heroin ever. You too, yeah?”

“I promise,” Mark agrees easily and continues walking, rejoicing on the inside that Roger has promised, seriously promised to stay away from drugs. If he’s ever tempted, he’ll remember this night and hopefully keep his promise.

******

After the Well Hungarians’ first gig things don’t change too much around the loft. Benny gets a job working for Mr. Gray, which Mark is sad about, but is okay with. They do alright without him after all.

Mark goes to every one of Roger’s shows, even though April stops coming after a few gigs. He spends so much time on guard for her though that he misses the sad-eyed girl at the table next to him, misses Maureen. And he does miss her. Loving Maureen was a huge part of Mark’s life, being her friend too, and he feels strangely absent without that. He keeps an eye out for her performance flyers but doesn’t see them, her life must have taken a different turn without him there. That’s a bittersweet thought for Mark.

Mark revels in the attention bestowed on him by his April-and-heroin free best friend, and loves him more fiercely with every day. The image of decimated, dying Roger is still clear in Mark’s mind.

When Roger kisses him, at long last and totally unexpectedly, Mark can only kiss back laughing.

‘This… wasn’t what I had in mind when I wished April out of the picture’, but Mark never stopped wondering if subconsciously it was.

Collins gives them both grief when they tell him and wonders if ‘best friend’ is some kind of dirty euphemism. He spends the next several months ending his phone calls from MIT “well, I gotta go boys, my best friend is here”.

Benny doesn’t much count anymore, and Roger’s band doesn’t care as long as they’ve still got a label interested. Mark’s still doing the independent documentary thing, but more successfully with his handy five-year head start.

Christmas Eve 1989 is fast approaching, and Mark is living in fear of the day he used to look forward to with curiosity. What if Roger meets Mimi? What if Collins doesn’t meet Angel? What about Maureen and Joanne?

He suggests going to Scarsdale for Christmas and Roger laughs at him. Mark tries a thousand ways to get Roger out of the loft on Christmas Eve, but Roger keeps insisting, “it’s Christmas Eve.”

It’s for the best, Mark decides. If he and Roger are meant to be, they’ll be with Mimi and Maureen and any other twists the universe throws at them. And if they’re not, well, at least Roger’s not dying.

The protest posters are up the morning of December 24th and Mark wonders where Maureen’s been all this time. He also wonders if April’s still alive, if her life went better without Roger. Mark forcibly reminds himself that He. Doesn’t. Care.

“Do you want to go to that protest tonight?” Mark asks his, well, technically boyfriend, and lover, but Roger always just feels like his very best friend in the world. Best everything. “Or are you still on your home-at-all-costs kick?”

Roger shrugs, sprawled all over the couch with his guitar, holding it almost erotically. Mark rolls his eyes and holds his camera up, narrating

“December 24th, nine pm, Eastern Standard time. Close on Roger holding his guitar like some kind of sex toy.”

Roger leers at the camera, “you’re my sex toy,” and Mark thinks ‘fuck recapturing the past’.

He tosses the camera aside and throws the guitar to the floor, eagerly taking its place. Roger hardly protests.

But then the phone rings and it’s Collins, wanting the key and warning them he may be detained. Mark smiles and wants to tell him that, yeah, it sucks he’s getting mugged but he’s about to have the best thing that will ever happen to him happen.

The power blows, and Mark smirks, lighting a few candles and using darkness and Roger to his advantage. Take that Mimi Marquez.

A knock on the door, Mark lets Roger get it and sprawls, half-naked on the couch.

“Got a light?”

“Sure, yeah,” Roger responds, pulling out the matches they used a few minutes before. “You’re shivering.”

“It’s nothing,” Mimi says, “they turned off my heat.”

“We know the feeling,” Mark can’t help commenting from the couch.

“Fucking Benny,” Roger mutters.

“He’s just trying to make a point,” Mark tells him.

“What?”

Mark sighs. “That he fucking hates us.”

Roger and Mimi laugh and Mimi staggers towards the door.

“Can you make it?” Roger asks, reaching to help steady her. Mark’s stomach flip-flops nervously.

“Just haven’t eaten much today. At least the room stopped spinning, anyway,” Mimi says casually. “Thanks for the light. Sorry to interrupt.”

The girl, just a neighbor, vanishes into the dark and Mark smiles blissfully. Once again they’re safe.

Collins comes by with a beautiful drag queen. It's so good to see her alive and vibrant. Mark’s glad that Collins and Angel are fated. The boys pass on the Life Support meeting, but are happy to join the new couple for the protest. It’s against Mark’s better judgment, but he wants to see her, just for a moment.

Maureen’s onstage, looking dimmer, diminished. She puts on one hell of a show though. As the riot starts Mark spots Maureen’s stage manger. Not Joanne. Fucking April.

The age-old knot in Mark’s stomach tightens once more, and then he sees April kiss Maureen. It almost makes Mark physically sick. Why does that woman always want what’s Mark’s? Why isn’t she dead?

He feels bad thinking that way, wanting April dead, but better her than Roger. Or Maureen.

“Let’s get outta here,” Roger leans close to Mark’s ear. “It’s getting dangerous out here.”

Mark assents and invites Collins and Angel back to the loft for a party with Collins’ provisions and tells them they’re welcome to crash in the other room. They take him up on the offer once it’s discovered that Benny’s padlocked them in.

Mark falls asleep that night tucked against Roger’s bare chest, the new world troubles him, but right here everything is perfect and he desperately hopes he’ll never wake up.


End file.
